Strachy na Lachy - Na Pogrzeb Króla

Crime, punishment, sin and a liter of wine
And so this story begins…

In this room, on the gray carpet
A rosary fell apart and spilled
Thus began my life in fear
Living with it under one roof

And here you are, looking through the keyhole…

There I had a fair few meetings
With a certain Jacek Kaczmarski
We indulged in life's festivities
Plucked raisins from pies together

So lived our
little group of breakfast masters
Cocaine and crack on the gridiron
Until a hundred finales in the mouth

Until a certain Easter day came…
(A certain day…)

And not one miracle powder helped
Neither did the four widow's mites
Reserved for the darkest hour
Embedded inside a black strap

At another stage of possession
He sold off the last of his clothes
To this very day, in the King's safe
His shirt is still hanging there…

As the wind howled, so it howls
Through the black tulles

In the King's court, also getting worse
Holy lamps shine in bitter sorrow
upon their squares
This gangrene's festering
in this court
In a heap of empty inkwells
Diamond goose quills are drying out

(This nation has kefir for hangovers
And time turns another page…)

A river flows into the sea of people
Coming from nearby and far away
Processions stretching out
Over the steps on the horizon

A train's carrying gifts for the King
A goblet, a tuba and an eyepiece
New wheels were put on the locomotive
The one that goes around and around

One free place left in the back rows
For a certain conductor…

Shepherds singing "happy birthday" for him
Four old men with aureolas
All pulling an air sleigh
High time to drink to this meeting

And to the looting of the soul
Hare Krishna, loot, loot

In the King's court, getting worse
Holy lamps shine in bitter sorrow
upon their squares
This gangrene's festering
in this court
In a heap of empty inkwells
Diamond goose quills are drying out

(Now we shall torment a cat
Before the third verse's start
So forgive us, ladies and gents
We won't screw with you much longer…)

In the King's court, down the crooked rails
Cruises a machine of the ages
On a screen as big as the world
With the King's death all the dance stopped
And only the elders of Zion
Are unwilling to tell anyone

Fear tied their mouths so hard…
Who? (who, who?)

Who will speak out to the people
over the cars' speakers
when even the one above the King
is himself afraid of them?

A mercilessly simple message:
Our Master's smelling the seaweed
The King's eyelids closed shut
He stepped into the river of the dead

And why are you staring down this keyhole?

As you look down this narrow hole
Someone's removing his wristwatch
They're taking his golden coat away
Prying out his platinum teeth

The ring finger dead as the rest
The eternal ring snuffed out with it
See the hellish crowd in the changing room?
No one wants to be the last to get away

And so they slip away swiftly by the wall
(rats after rats) Rats after rats
(vultures in a line) Vultures in a line

It cannot be any worse
In this court
Foreign eagles wander around the halls
Auroras cracking in half
Oh my dear God
You know I have nowhere left to…

It cannot get any worse
In this court
Foreign eagles wander around the halls
Auroras cracking in half
Oh my dear God
You know I have nowhere left to
fuck off to… fuck off to…
fuck off to… fuck off to…

In the King's court
Oh dear Lord
In the heap of empty inkwells
The diamond goose quills are all dried out